


west-by-midwest #1

by zempasuchil



Series: west-by-midwest [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-15
Updated: 2010-04-15
Packaged: 2017-10-17 20:58:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/181121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zempasuchil/pseuds/zempasuchil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sammy is a faker.</p>
            </blockquote>





	west-by-midwest #1

They cross the border out of Wyoming in the pitch black past-midnight, riding the stretch of I-90 that goes straight through the state and it's not long before Sam is slumping down next to him, jacket whooshing against the upholstery as he tilts like a felled tree, what a Sasquatch, head heading toward the seat - really kinda close to Dean. Head nearly in Dean's lap, dead asleep. Dean tries not to tense too much and really hopes Sam doesn't decide to drool all over his jeans, or worse the upholstery.

Or worse, actually nudge even closer to Dean until his nose is in Dean's crotch, till Sam's slightly open mouth presses against the increasingly uncomfortable hard bulge in Dean's jeans. Dean sucks his breath in and Sam's mouth _moves_ \- "Goddamn it, Sam, you faker!" but Dean's voice is a little too high and whining to have any real rancor.

Sam chuckles and his hot breath gusts out and he's downright mouthing Dean now right through his jeans while Dean zooms past a four-door sedan at 90 miles an hour in the middle of nowhere, South Dakota. Sam's hand on his zipper and then on his cock pulling it out pulls it out, Dean tenses and chokes and swears a blue streak as he brakes and pulls over, Sam sucking him off, "Damn it, Sammy," gasping the whole way and Sam just smirking (he can feel the curl of his lips around his cock, and god if there's nothing hotter than that, he nearly shoots his load right then and there) but really it only takes a few seconds more for it to hit Dean like a hot wave and he's gone, just gone.

Later Dean lets Sam fuck him in the back seat, cramped and uncomfortable but good, really good, which just proves they get used to anything. Because he knows Sam needs it - so obvious to him, see the way he gets restless and pointedly looks/doesn't look at Dean when they've crashed at the end of the day: one of them sitting on end of a bed with a spring digging in his backside if he shifts wrong, flipping through channels without really seeing the television, looking for either an action movie or strange news. The other, looking past or not looking past the newspaper he's barely reading, tapping his foot. What mires them in this exhaustion isn't the work itself but the space of the shabby room at the end of the day, the distance between their bodies, all the things they have to think or do to fill it when it'd just be easier to collapse into each other. They don't need talk, cheeseburgers or chinese is all. Each other, is all.

If Sam needs this, see, then Dean doesn't have to think about whether he needs it too. Just says yes, every time.


End file.
